Story: A friend of yours kept her new born with you, cause she needed some time alone with her mate — The child wont stop crying all nigh
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You agreed too easily.
Your friend looked exhausted, hair messy, eyes pleading. “Just one night. I need time with him. Please.”
You smiled warmly. “Of course. Go.”
You had underestimated what “one night” meant.
The baby started crying before the sun fully set.
At first, you were calm. You rocked him gently. Whispered soft sounds. Tried feeding him.
He cried louder.
“It’s okay,” you murmured, bouncing him slightly. “You are safe.”
He was not convinced.
By midnight, your arms ached. Your hair was a mess. You had been peed on twice.
“Again?” you whispered in disbelief, staring at the damp cloth.
You changed him carefully, trying not to lose patience. The second you finished, he began crying again — louder this time.
You blinked at him, exhausted. “What do you want?”
The crying intensified.
By the time So’lek returned, the sound was echoing outside the hut.
He paused at the entrance.
For a brief second, genuine confusion crossed his face.
He actually stepped back and looked at the doorway, as if confirming it was his home.
Inside, you were pacing, baby in your arms, whispering half-coherent reassurances while looking seconds away from tears yourself.
He entered slowly. “Why is there a child here?”
You turned to him with wild eyes. “Don’t ask.”
The baby wailed louder.
So’lek blinked once. “Did we…?”
“No!” you snapped, then softened immediately. “It’s not ours.”
He looked mildly relieved — then concerned again.
You shoved the baby gently into his arms. “Here. Try.”
He stiffened instinctively. “I am not trained for this.”
“Neither am I!”
The baby continued crying.
So’lek stood there awkwardly at first — holding the tiny body like it might explode. Then, hesitantly, he adjusted his grip, bringing the child closer to his chest.
His voice dropped, deeper and steadier. “Enough.”
It wasn’t harsh.
Just firm.
The baby hiccupped mid-cry.
You stared.
So’lek shifted slightly, rocking once. “You are loud.”
The baby sniffled.
Silence.
You both froze.
The crying stopped.
You blinked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
He looked equally surprised. “I did nothing.”
“You said one word.”
He glanced down at the now-quiet infant. “He listened.”
You slumped down in relief. “I have been fighting for hours.”
So’lek carefully handed the baby back once he was calm. “You are exhausted.”
“Yes.”
He studied you for a moment — damp clothes, messy hair, drained expression.
“You would be a fierce mother,” he said quietly.
You stared at him.
“Fierce?” you echoed.
“You did not give up.”
Your exhaustion softened into something warmer.
The baby stirred again.
You both stiffened.
“Do not,” you warned softly.
The baby whimpered — but did not resume crying.
You exhaled slowly.
For the rest of the night, you and So’lek took turns. And though neither of you admitted it aloud, there was something unexpectedly intimate about surviving that chaos together.
YOU. WILL. WRITE. oh you want to write so bad. all the motivation is here. the plot is so good. words come to you so naturally. YOU ARE GOING TO WRITE. RIGHT NOW.
jake but it’s sending you out to the frontiers to help out the resistance, and he stops by to show face, raise moral and the like. and he doesn’t like how close you’ve gotten to the infamous dog tag warrior
and so’lek would never openly challenge torok makto, he fought with him, for him. but he’s getting very close to it when jake gives you a smile, hand on your back as you show him around base
he’s always hated dream walkers, everything about the sky people make his palms itch. a reminder of all that came before and was lost because of them. but you, why are you so different? why does his jaw clench when he sees you stand with another male too close? when you smile at anyone but him?
“oh! this is where we debrief.” you grin, leading him to the central station
jake hums, “good work.”
“learned from the best.”
he gives a lazy smile back, smug. “you know it.”
so’lek watches from the far corner of the room, silent and unmoving. you have history, he can tell, but what kind alludes him. you aren’t exactly the most open person and he doesn’t blame you. he needs to know.
your history with jake is a messy one. you butted heads every second of his avatar training. you were like norm, training your whole life for this chance. but things change fast, and you followed him to war. close quarters in the mountains get handsy, but that was a long time ago, right?
jake, who doesn’t miss the stagnant expressions so’lek gives when he speaks standing next to you. he recognizes respect, but he is no fool to the building tension. things will boil over sooner or later. it’s just a matter of who snaps first
it seems like you are completely unaware, frolicking through the grass and zipping on your ikran with the both of them
if so’lek wants you, he’ll have to get through jake first. and will he really go toe to toe with torok makto?
hi lovely! i absolutely loooove your gabriel (spn) stories and find myself coming back to it again and again and i was just curious if you would write more gabriel fics in the future? there are so few pieces about him and you write him so well!! burgundy is one of my favorite pieces of writing i’ve seen in so long and i would love for you to do more 🫶🏻
🥹🫶🏻 thank you so much anon! this made my day. i do have some fics planned, but motivation has left the chat recently (they’re stuck in the drafts….)
i am so glad you liked burgundy! i hope to have some more out soon 💙
Summary: You are the eldest daughter, Neteyam’s twin sister, the one who always stood shoulder to shoulder with him to protect the others. But when the bullets fly, it isn’t the Golden Boy who gets hit. It’s you.
Warnings: Death, heavy angst, descriptions of blood/wounds, grief.
જ⁀➴
The air smelled of burning fuel and salt. It was a sensory overload ,the screaming of the Tulkun, the mechanical whine of the RDA ships, and the thundering beat of your own heart against your ribs.
"Go,Go, go!" Neteyam’s voice was barking over the chaos. You were right beside him. As always. That was the deal. You came into this world holding hands, the firstborn twins of Toruk Makto, and you moved through life as a single unit. Two halves of the same spear,as your grandmother called it.
You grabbed Spider, shoving him toward the railing, checking over your shoulder for Lo’ak. "Move, Lo’ak! do not look back!" you screamed, your voice cracking from the smoke.
Just then the RDA soldiers on the upper deck opened fire. The sound was deafening. Bullets ripped through the metal railing, sending sparks showering down like angry fireflies. You saw Lo’ak flinch, saw Neteyam duck. Instinct took over ,You didn't think twice. You just moved. You shifted your weight, throwing yourself into the space between the muzzle flashes and your brothers.
…
It wasn't a loud noise. It was a dull, wet thud. Like a stone hitting thick mud. The impact spun you around, a burst of white ,hot shock hitting your chest, but the adrenaline was so high you barely registered it as pain. It felt like a heavy punch. You gasped, the air catching in your throat, but you forced your legs to work.
"Jump!" Neteyam roared.
You dove after him. The cool embrace of the water usually felt like home, like Eywa’s arms, but today it felt heavy. You kicked hard, your tail swishing frantically to propel you deep, away from the surface fire.
Swim, you told yourself. Just swim to the rocks.But your limbs felt like they were filled with sand. every stroke was a labor. You surfaced behind the jagged rocks, gasping for air that didn't seem to want to fill your lungs.
Neteyam popped up first, shaking the water from his braids, his golden eyes wide . He immediately scanned the group. "Lo’ak? Spider? You guys good?"
"Yeah bro," Lo’ak panted, clinging to the rock. "Yeah, we’re clear."
Neteyam turned to you. His grin was breathless, fueled by the survival high. "that was too close. You okay, sister?"
You tried to smile back. You tried to give him that signature smirk, the one that said I’m invincible, but your lips felt numb. You pulled yourself up onto the rock, intending to stand, but your knees buckled. "I think..." You wheezed, your hand moving to your chest. Your fingers came away wet. Not with seawater.
The bioluminescent dots on your skin were stained dark. A thick, crimson slick was spreading across your chest, coating your tactical vest, dripping onto the grey stone.
Neteyam’s smile didn’t just fade; it shattered. "Y/N?"
"I..." You looked down, confusion swirling in your darkening vision. "I think I got hit."
The silence that fell over the boys was louder than the battle behind you.
"No, no, no." Neteyam scrambled over the rocks, his hands hovering over you, terrified to touch, terrified not to. "Lo’ak, help me! Apply pressure! Now!"
You slumped back against the stone, the sky above you spinning in dizzying circles. Lo’ak was there, his hands pressing down on your chest. He was crying. Why was he crying?
As they applied pressure on wound you cried out, a weak, strangled sound. It burned. Eywa, it burned. It felt like someone had shoved a hot coal into your lungs.
"Sorry, sorry, I know, I know," Neteyam sobbed, tears cutting tracks through the war paint on his face. "Just breathe, sister. Just breathe for me."
"I... I can't..." You gasped, your eyes fluttering. The stars above looked blurry. "Teyam... it’s cold."
"You are okay,you are going to be okay." He leaned over you, his braid falling onto your cheek. "Dad! Dad, help!"
The sound of a skimwing screeching overhead tore through the air. You saw the shadow of the Tsurak, and then the heavy thud of your father landing.
"Neteyam! Y/N!" Jake’s voice was commanding, angry, until he saw it.
He saw the blood pooling on the black rock. He saw his two sons holding his eldest daughter, their hands soaked with blood.
"Dad..." Neteyam looked up, his expression broken. "I can't stop it. Dad, I can't stop it."
Jake dropped to his knees.
"Let me see, let me see," Jake said, his voice forcibly calm, though his hands shook as he replaced Neteyams hands with his."I’ve got you. I’ve got you, babygirl."Jake’s voice was trembling in a way you had never heard before. He scooped you up, his large arms cradling you against his chest. "Hang on. Stay with me. Eyes on me, Y/N."
He placed you on the flat expanse of the rock where the family was gathering. The world was tilting.
Neytiri landed on the rock a second later, her bow in hand, fury in her eyes until she saw you. The fury vanished, replaced by a horror so raw it felt like a physical blow. She dropped her bow.
"No..." She fell to her knees beside you, her hands immediately going to the wound, covering Jake’s. "No, no, Great Mother, no..."
She grabbed your face, her hands frantic, stroking your cheeks, your forehead."Evi(child)... my baby, my girl..." Her eyes were wide, frantic, searching yours for a spark that was rapidly fading. "Look at Mother. Look at Mother!"
"Mom..." You tried to smile. You wanted to tell her it was okay. You wanted to tell her you saved Lo’ak. You did your job. You protected the family.
"I... I want to go home," you whispered. The words felt thick in your mouth.
Neytiri let out a sob that wrecked her throat. "Yes, yes, we go home. We go home soon."
"Stay with us, babygirl," Jake commanded, but his voice broke. He was crying. Your strong, invincible father was crying. "Focus on me, Strong heart,You have a strong heart."
But the heart was slowing down.
You looked past your parents, locking eyes with Neteyam. Your twin. Your other half. He was gripping your hand so hard it hurt, his forehead pressed against your knuckles.
You have to lead them now, you thought, projecting it to him as hard as you could. You have to be the strong one alone. I'm sorry.
"Ma Teyam..." you breathed.
"I'm here. I'm right here," he choked out, squeezing your hand. "I’m not leaving you."
The edges of your vision turned black. The pain was receding, replaced by a vast, watery silence. It felt like diving. It felt like connecting to the Spirit Tree.
"I see..." you whispered, your eyes fixing on something none of them could see. "I see... Her."
Your chest hitched once. Twice.
And then, nothing.
The scream that tore from Neytiri’s throat silenced the battle.
It was a wail of such primal agony that even the ocean seemed to still. She collapsed over your chest, burying her face in your neck, rocking back and forth, keening, begging Eywa to give it back, to give you back.
"No! No, no, no!" Neteyam was hitting the rock, screaming, his composure utterly destroyed. He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you gently, as if he could wake you up from a nap. "Wake up! Y/N, wake up!"
Lo’ak stood frozen, tears streaming down his face, staring at blood his hands.
Jake sat back on his heels. He looked hollowed out. He looked old. He reached out, placing a hand on Neteyam’s back to stop him from shaking your body, and then he pulled Neytiri against him, though she fought him, clinging to your shirt.
Moment later Jake looked up, his eyes hardening, the grief turning into a cold, dark rage. He reached out, touching Neytiri’s shoulder, then Neteyam’s. But his gaze was fixed on the ship in the distance.
He stood up, checking his weapon. The tears were still falling, but his face was stone.
He turned Neytiri towards him “we have to be strong for our kids, for our daughters”
Neytiri stood up emotionless picking up her bow ,ready for revenge.
Jake turned to his son, "Neteyam," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Stay back with your brother ."
"No," Neteyam stood up. His eyes were red, wild, filled with the same dark promise as his father’s. He looked down at your body one last time, wiping a smudge of blood from your cheek. "No, sir."
He picked up his knife.
"I’m coming with you."
જ⁀➴
….The air around Neteyam was crisp and cool, smelling of damp earth and moss. The floating mountains of Pandora hung in the mist around him. He looked down and saw his hands, free of the scars he’d collected over the years. He looked at his mount. It wasn't the skimwing he had mastered, but his Ikran.
And just then, he heard it. The sound that haunted his dreams. Sound that he missed dearly.
A sharp, and familiar joyful yip.
Neteyam wipped his head to his left ,There you were.
You were diving through a cloud bank, your Ikran’s wings tucked tight against your body. You looked exactly as you did the day you left the forest ,eyes bright with mischief, alive. So painfully, beautifully alive.
"Keep up, skxawng!" you laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest like a struck bell.
"Y/N!" Neteyam shouted, the name tearing out of his throat. He kicked his heels into his Ikran’s sides, diving after you.
For a moment, the war didn't exist. The RDA, the ash people, the grief ,everything was gone. It was just the two of you.
You leveled out, catching an updraft, and he pulled up right beside you. You flew wingtip to wingtip, so close he could almost reach out and grab your arm. You turned your head and grinned at him, that same smile that he hadn't seen in a mirror for so long.
"You're slow today," you teased, banking hard to the right, leading him on a chase through the stone arches.
He followed you effortlessly. He knew your moves before you made them. It was a dance you had perfected since you were children. He mirrored your dip, your roll, the way you let go of the reins and threw your arms out to embrace the wind.
Finally, you both landed on a high cliff overlooking the vast green canopy of the Omatikaya forest.
You hopped off your Ikran with that graceful bounce, turning to face him. But Neteyam stumbled as he dismounted. He didn't care about the view. He rushed toward you, crashing into you, wrapping his arms around you so tight it would have hurt if this were real.
You froze for a second, then softened, your arms coming up to hold him back. "Hey... hey. I've got you brother." He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of you, He was shaking. "I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts to breathe."
"I know," you whispered, stroking his hair. "I’m with you, Brother. Always." He pulled back, gripping your shoulders, his golden eyes searching yours. The joy of the flight was fading, replaced by the crushing reality of why he was here. "Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice cracking. Your smile faded gently. You didn't pretend not to understand. "Do what?" ,"You took the bullet," Neteyam said, the anger finally bubbling up ,anger at himself. "It was meant for me, You took it for me, You... you stupid skxawng." Tears spilled over his lashes. "I’m the oldest. By three minutes. It was my job to protect you."
You sighed, reaching up to cup his face. Your hands were warm. "We were partners, remember? Two halves. One spear." "The spear is broken without you," he choked out. "No," you said firmly, your thumb brushing away a tear on his cheek. "It’s just got sharper."
You stepped back, looking out over the forest, your expression wise beyond your years. "I didn't think, ma Teyam. I just moved. I saw the fire, I saw our brothers... and my body just knew what to do. I didn't choose to leave you. I chose to save who i love."
"But it’s not fair," Neteyam argued, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. "I’m down there, and I’m trying to be strong for Dad, trying to keep Lo’ak from doing something stupid, trying to comfort Mom... and I’m alone. I turn to tell you something, and you’re not there."
"I am there," you insisted. You stepped closer, pressing your hand flat against his chest, right over his heart. "I am right here. Every time you draw a bow, I’m aiming with you. Every time you fly, I’m the wind under your wings. You are living for both of us now, brother."
Neteyam covered your hand with his own. "I don't want to live for both of us. I want you next to me, i want our full family back."
"But we cant always have what we want can we?," you said softly, sad but accepting. "But you have them. Our little sisters and brothers. They need you. They need Neteyam."
The wind picked up, tugging at your braids. The light around the edges of the cliff began to fade, the violet bioluminescence of the real world bleeding into the dream. "I have to go," he whispered, panic rising in his chest. "I don't want to go."
"You have to," you smiled, and this time, it was the proud smile of a sister looking at a warrior. "Go be Toruk Makto’s son. Go help our family finish this war.”
You stepped back toward your Ikran. "Come back and fly with me when the war is done. But not yet. Not yet, Neteyam."
"I love you,sister" he called out, the world dissolving into white mist.
You mounted your Ikran, looking back over your shoulder, your silhouette glowing against the sun.
a/n: back again with another dirty little drabble for kinktober (2/?)
carmy’s already in work mode, the sounds of him moving around the apartment pulling you from sleep.
drawers open and close, shoes shuffle toward the door, and the click of his belt buckle echoes in the quiet. you drag yourself out of bed and lean against the doorframe, still in your sleep shirt, your hair a mess. you watch him as he finishes getting ready: dark pants on, shirt half-tucked, his hair already a little wild.
he glances over, tight little frown like he’s trying to be good. “mornin’,” he says, already reaching for his jacket.
“mornin’,” you echo, soft, coy, and when he looks back you give him that look. one that makes his jaw clench, because he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
“nah, babe, i can’t. i really can’t–gotta be on time. deliveries, new people, all that shit, okay?” he’s trying to sound firm, but his eyes already betray him, flicking down your bare legs.
you just smirk. three steps and you’re close enough that he can smell your skin, warm from sleep. you hook your fingers at the hem of your sleep shirt and tug it up, over your head in one fluid motion. for someone who just woke up, you move so fucking gracefully it knocks the breath out of carmen.
his eyes go wide for a second, then dark, heavy, glued to your tits like he never stood a chance. and you know it, too. know the way he always goes stupid for you the second you bare yourself to him. so you tilt your head, lips curving into a pout that’s more weapon than plea, using every ounce of his weakness against him.
“i’ll be quick.”
“you’re never quick,” he says, but his voice cracks a little, betrays him.
“then that’s on you,” you tease. “not me.”
and yeah, he should walk away, he wants to walk away, but you’ve got that smile, that determination, and he’s helpless against it.
you’re on your knees before he can tell you no again, fingers at his belt, tugging his pants down just enough. his half-protest dies in his throat the second you lick along the head, teasing.
it’s easier now, practiced, the way you take him into your mouth. still hungry, still greedy, but smoother, and he notices it: the way you’ve been learning him. and god, he’s never felt heat as good as the heat of your mouth, the wet slide of your tongue, the way you look up at him like you own him this way.
he braces his hand on the wall, his other buried in his hair, dragging it back, muttering, “y'gonna make me late.”
you hum around him, glancing up with that playful, knowing look, and his head tips back. “fuck–don’t-don’t look at me like that—” he stammers, because it feels too good. too much too fast.
he already knows he won’t be able to think straight the rest of the day.
your own hand slips between your thighs as you work him, fingers finding that slick, aching spot. every stroke of his cock in your mouth makes your hips twitch, makes your fingers circle harder. your lips are wet, mouth stretched around him, breath hot and messy against his skin. he finally caves, threading his fingers through your hair, hips stuttering like he can’t stop himself.
“god, baby, you–fuck–we should stop, i have to–” but his voice is breaking apart, every moan raw and needy. he knows this is why he’s lighter at work lately, why the new hires smile at him more, why sydney doesn’t have to dodge his sharpness so much. because of you. because you do this to him.
carmy gasps when you swallow him deeper, when your free hand cradles him at the base, when you moan against him like you want him to hear how badly you need it, too. his thighs tense, his head falls forward, and when he finally comes, it’s with a strangled, desperate sound, hot and heavy down your throat.
you don’t stop, not until you’ve swallowed him down greedy, not until you pull off with a loud, wet pop—obvious, deliberate, obscene. his cock twitches at the sound, and you smile up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like it’s nothing.
he’s staring at you, chest heaving, hair a mess from where he’s dragged his hands through it.
“baby,” he breathes, dazed, looking down at you. “you’re— fuck, you’re somethin’ else.”
and you laugh, licking your lips, smug as hell. “you should be thanking me, carm. pretty sure your whole staff should be, too.”
you get to your feet and press the softest, most innocent kiss to his mouth — a sharp contrast to what you’d just done on your knees for him. it makes the corner of his mouth twitch, like he almost wants to laugh, and you give him a little push toward the door, sending him back out there to work.
Gabriel had you tucked against his chest, the steady beat of his heart thrumming under your ear. His hand absentmindedly traced lazy circles along your back, the kind of touch that made your whole body melt into him. You felt a soft rustle, then warmth bloomed all around you as his golden wings unfurled, curling protectively around the both of you like a cocoon. The feathers brushed your cheek, impossibly soft, carrying the faint scent of honey and ozone.
“You know,” he murmured, voice low and fond, “you’re the only one who gets the VIP wing treatment.”
You smiled against him, fingers curling in his shirt. “Guess I’m special, huh?”
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, wings tightening in a gentle squeeze. “Special doesn’t even begin to cover it, sugar.”
Summary: Character requested by @a-folkwhore. After cancelling every dinner date one week, you finally get frustrated and are very keen to let him know.
Masterlist
-----------------
It had been a week of canceled plans. Seven long days of you waiting outside the precinct, only to get a last-minute text or a quick apology as Fin dashed off to handle yet another case. You understood, his job was demanding, and people’s lives depended on him, but understanding didn’t make the disappointment sting any less. By Friday night, your patience had run out.
Standing outside the precinct once again, you felt the frustration bubbling inside you. The city was alive around you, its usual energy doing little to calm the storm in your chest. When the door finally opened and Fin stepped out, you didn’t greet him with your usual smile.
“Another night, huh?” you said, crossing your arms. Your tone was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. “What’s the excuse this time?”
Fin stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” you snapped, “that I’m tired of being stood up. Every single night this week, Fin. Every night. Do you know how that feels?”
He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry. Things have been crazy with the cases lately. You know that.”
“I do know that,” you shot back. “But do you know what I want? Just one night. One dinner. One conversation that doesn’t end with you running off to chase down some perp. Is that really too much to ask?”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to walk away. Instead, he turned to face you fully, his eyes narrowing. “You think I like canceling on you? You think I enjoy this? This job… it’s not nine to five. It’s not predictable. People’s lives are on the line, and I can’t just clock out because you want a burger.”
The words stung, but you refused to back down. “It’s not just about the burger, Fin. It’s about feeling like I matter. Like I’m not just some afterthought you squeeze in between cases. I get it, your job is important, but… so am I.”
For a moment, the two of you stood there, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Finally, Fin’s expression softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “You do matter. More than I probably let on. I… I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in everything, I didn’t realize how much I’ve been letting you down.”
The sincerity in his voice made your anger melt away, replaced by a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, too. I know your job isn’t easy. I just… I miss you, Fin.”
He stepped closer, his gaze steady. “I’ve been wanting to take you to this diner for weeks. Best greasy burgers in the city. It’s my favorite spot, and I’ve been saving it for a night we could actually enjoy it. Let me make it up to you. Tonight. No excuses.”
You hesitated, studying his face. He looked tired, but there was a determination in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. But if you cancel on me again, I’m not waiting outside. I’m coming in there and dragging you out myself.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Fair enough. Now come on. Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”
The walk to the diner was quieter than usual, but the tension between you had eased. By the time you reached the small, cozy spot, the smell of sizzling beef and fresh fries was enough to make you forget your frustration entirely. The waitress greeted Fin like an old friend, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“This your usual haunt?” you asked as you slid into the booth across from him.
“Something like that,” he said, shrugging. “Figured I’d finally share it with you.”
The food arrived quickly, and the first bite of the burger was enough to make you let out an involuntary hum of approval. Fin watched you with a smug expression, leaning back in his seat.
“Told you,” he said. “Best burgers in the city.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “Alright, you win. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” he replied, his tone teasing.
As the night went on, the two of you fell into your usual rhythm, the earlier argument fading into the background. You joked, teased, and laughed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you had Fin all to yourself.
When you finally left the diner, the city was quieter, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Fin slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
“Thanks for putting up with me,” he said. “I know I’m not the easiest person to be with.”
“You’re worth it,” you replied, leaning into him. “Just don’t forget to let me know every once in a while that I’m worth it, too.”
He stopped walking, turning to face you. “You are. More than you know. And I’ll do better. I promise.”
The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. You smiled, reaching up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Good. Now, let’s get you home before another case pops up and ruins the moment.”
He chuckled, guiding you down the street. “Not tonight. Tonight’s just for us.”
warning! must be logged into twt/x for you to see the links :p
incl ⤷ rough + unprotected sex, oral, slapping, choking, size kink, clit rubbing, spanking, eating it from the back, fingering, public sex (voyeurism?), threesome + double penetration, anal sex, lmk if i missed any.
RICHIE JERIMOVICHִ໋˚ ༘ ⋆｡
⤷ “you’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.”
⤷ just the tip! (not clickbait)
⤷ he’s tired after work but he wants you more.
⤷ richie won’t admit he’s jealous but there will be signs.
⤷ prone-bone with richie :ppp
⤷ he knows you’re stressed and pent up so he has to help his girl out :(
⤷ a nice rest in the park to spend the day off!
BONUS
⤷ he might have overheard you talking about how you want him and carmy, and who are they to deny you?
Warnings: smut, car sex, oral (f receiving), handjob, penetration (p in v), public sex (it happens in a parking lot so yeah i guess), no use of y/n, mutual pinning, cursing, kissing, dirty talk, female anatomy, male anatomy.
Word count: 4K (idk how that happened, i swear it's worth it 😅)
There were about a thousand other things Carmen should’ve been doing right now. The restaurant was still made up of tarps and chunks of wood and debris. He needed to call a plumber. And an electrician. And a builder. He needed to figure out the menu. Get the staff. Handle the permits. There were a million other things he should be doing.
But he wasn’t.
In fact, he wasn’t anywhere near the restaurant.
Carmen currently found himself sitting in your car, parked in the middle of a near-empty lot, as you blasted the radio. You hadn’t shut up for the last thirty minutes. You couldn’t. There were too many things to say, too many thoughts to share.
And Carmen listened—not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. Because it mattered to you.
He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up as you spoke about the music. He didn’t understand half the technical terms you used and probably never would, but that didn’t matter. He loved the way your hands moved through the air, describing a specific part of a song like you were conducting it.
He wondered if this was how people felt when he talked about cooking. Did he light up like this? Did his hands move the same way? Did people look at him the way he was looking at you now?
Carmen had been so focused on the way you looked as you talked that he completely lost track of what you were actually saying. You noticed. You always noticed. You snapped your fingers in front of his face to bring him back.
“Yo, Carmy? You still with me?”
“What? Yeah—sorry.”
“I’m boring you with my music talk, huh?”
“No, no—of course not. I was just—”
“Jesus, Carm. I’m joking. You’re all good.”
This happened a lot. Sometimes Carmen got too caught up in the sight of you, in his thoughts about you, that he missed whole pieces of conversation. You never seemed bothered by it. You never held it against him.
But it happened enough for you to notice—how his eyes would glaze over just slightly, or how he’d be so focused on your face that he didn’t compute a single word coming out of your mouth. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Who wouldn’t want Carmen Berzatto staring at them like they were the only person left on Earth?
“I could play at the restaurant,” you said suddenly.
You surprised him—it was obvious on his face.
“I mean, think about it. You could have live music on, I don’t know, Saturday. Then I could go, and I could play.”
“…Okay. I’d need a stage.”
“No, fuck that. I don’t need a stage to play.”
“Okay. What about payment?”
“Jesus, Carmy—way to spoil the mood.”
You were toying with him. You couldn’t help it. Carmen was an easy target. You loved seeing the way his brows crinkled when he thought he’d actually managed to piss you off.
He never did. Well—maybe if he really tried, he could. But he never had. Not once. And yet every time you teased him, you still got him. Every time.
“You’re a pain in my ass,” Carmen muttered, but he was smiling when he said it.
You leaned back in your seat, kicking your feet up onto the dash like you lived in the car. Like this was your shared little world where nothing outside mattered—not the restaurant, not the bills, not the creeping anxiety that clung to Carmen like grease in his skin.
“Yeah, well,” you said, tilting your head to look at him, “you keep coming back, don’t you?”
He did keep coming back. Not because it mattered. Not because he had to. But because you were a break. A break in the constant anxiety and dread that filled him. A break from the restaurant and its never-ending chores. A break from his mind. Here, in your car, locked away from the rest of the world, Carmen felt like he could breathe again. It didn’t matter that he didn’t understand what you were talking about half the time. The sound of your voice—the simple presence of you—managed to calm him.
So yes, he kept coming back to you.
Even if maybe there were other things he could be doing with his time.
You always made sure he had nothing left on his plate before letting him melt into your passenger seat. You didn’t let him hide here if there was something waiting to be resolved. And even when he said, “I’m good, I’m done for the day,” you still checked with Syd. Not because you didn’t trust him. But because you didn’t want to be a burden.
You didn’t want to be the reason the restaurant fell behind.
Because as much as you selfishly adored your time with Carmen— as much as you wanted to keep him here, tucked away with you forever—you knew what the restaurant meant to him. How much it meant to be building something again. It meant something to him, which meant it meant something to you too. Because he meant something to you.
Carmen’s eyes raked over your face before shifting to the place where your hands thrummed against your thighs. You seemed so at peace here—so angelic against the light of the setting sun. Carmen often thought that, in moments like this. But he never told you.
“You look really pretty.”
You blinked, caught off guard.
It wasn’t like Carmen to say things like that. Not to you. Not to anyone, really.
He was quiet with his feelings—kept them pressed down, folded into corners of himself he rarely let people see. And even though you were close, even though you spent hours like this—just being together—he had never said anything like that before.
Not really.
You glanced over at him, searching his face for a sign that he was joking, or distracted, or thinking about someone else entirely.His brow furrowed slightly, like maybe he was already regretting saying it. Like the words had slipped out before he could shove them back down.
But he didn’t take it back.
You felt your stomach twist, just a little.
“…What?” you asked, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you needed to be sure.
Carmen looked away, jaw tight. His fingers tapped lightly against his thigh—nervous, fidgeting.
“I just…” he started, then stopped. Swallowed.
“I think that sometimes. That you look… you know. Pretty.”
You stared at him for a moment, completely still. Because you’d known he liked being around you—sure. You’d known he cared. But this? This was different.
Your heart beat louder than it should’ve.
You didn’t really know how to respond.Maybe you should thank him, but that felt too superficial, too odd considering the situation. Carmen Berzatto had just told you that he often thought you looked pretty—and that was doing something to you that you hadn’t expected it to.
You’d always had a sort of thing for him. The Berzattos were a handsome family—it was easy to fall for their looks. So yeah, when you were younger, you thought Carmen was cute. But then you started to know him. Started to hang around him. Actually became his friend.
And the thought of him being cute melted into something else.
But he had too much on his plate already, and you didn’t want to just pile on another thing for him to be worried about.
Friends don’t look at friends the way you look at Carmen.And Carmen doesn’t look at you the way he looks at his other friends—the few ones he does have.
So you let yourself sit in silence for a moment, running over a million thoughts at the speed of a second. And then, before you could chicken out,before you could convince yourself that it wasn’t worth it,you removed your feet from the dash and began to lean over the center console so you could reach him.
When your hand touched Carmen’s thigh, his head snapped up from the window to look at you. He hadn’t even realized you’d moved—not until you were practically on top of him.
And you stayed there for a second. Not moving. Not talking. Just letting your breath and his mingle.
His eyes darted from yours to your lips and you took that as your shot.You pressed a gentle kiss to him, backing away softly in an attempt to allow him to take in what had just happened.
But Carmen didn’t need to think. In fact, he’d almost shut off that part of his brain in that moment. Because if he started to think, he would chicken out. And he didn’t want to lose the opportunity you had just granted him. So before his brain could even compute it, he had dragged you onto his lap, hand settling at your waist as he kissed you again.
Carmen’s lips trailed from yours down to the hollow of your neck, soft and searching. You tilted your head, giving him better access, heart pounding in your chest like a drum. His fingers pressed firmly at your sides, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
You could feel the heat radiating from him, the subtle shift in his breathing as desire laced every movement. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent—it was something deeper, slower. Like discovery.
Your hands found their way up, tangling in his hair, feeling the slight roughness beneath your fingers. He responded with a low sound in his throat, pulling you into him again.
The radio hummed somewhere in the background, but it was just noise now—everything else narrowed to the warmth of his skin, the press of his body, the steady beat of your shared breaths.
Carmen’s lips left your neck to meet yours again, more demanding this time, as if he was catching up on all the things he’d been holding back. Your hands slid down, tracing the line of his shirt, feeling the strength beneath, the promise of more.
You ground your hips down onto Carmy’s, causing him to let out a low groan. You smiled against his lips, repeating the action. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body pressed harder into yours, matching the rhythm you set.
And then he pulled his mouth away from yours. You wondered for a moment if he’d changed his mind. Wondered if you were going too fast for poor Carmy. But he surprised you.
“Get in the back.”
You raised your eyebrows at the sudden shift in his voice. Where had the shyness you knew so well gone? Carmen seemed to catch onto your amusement, his hands moving to caress your ass. He smiled as you gasped at his actions.
“You started it.”
“And you’re gonna finish it, Berzatto?”
Carmen smiled at you—full of mischief.
“Get in the back and you’ll find out.”
That was all you needed. You climbed over the center console, sitting in the backseat. Carmen didn’t even need to ask you to take your pants off; you were already stripping them when he managed to get to the backseat. His eyes raked over the newly exposed skin, hands moving to knead it like soft dough.
Carmen’s hands didn’t stop kneading, their touch slow but deliberate, as you adjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. You were practically lying down in the back seat, Carmy hovering above you. The car felt smaller than it had a couple of moments ago, the air charged with a sort of unspoken need.
You let out a soft breath, your fingers trailing down his arms, feeling the strength beneath the fabric.
“Can I see you without the shirt?”
Carmen was surprised by your question. You’d been so prepared to undress yourself before him, but you worried he wouldn’t be as comfortable doing that. Instead of answering, his hands released your body for a moment, tugging his shirt off. Your palms traced his body as he leaned down to kiss your neck again.
His hands moved over your stomach, fingers skimming against the edge of your shirt. You nodded your head at him before he even asked the question, hands moving to help him peel your shirt off. When the shirt slipped over your head, Carmen’s lips met yours again, slower this time, more deliberate. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
You could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, the pressure of his body pressing against yours. His fingers trailed lower, brushing over your ribs, the bare skin beneath your bra.
“Can I?” he murmured against your lips.
Your breath hitched as you nodded, lifting your arms just enough for him to slide your bra straps down your shoulders. His hands cupped your breasts gently, thumbs circling your nipples through the thin fabric. Your head lifted slightly off the seat as Carmen leaned down, taking one of your breasts into his mouth while his hand continued to caress the other.
You could already feel the wet spot forming on your underwear. Carmen wasn’t much better off—his boxers were already stained with precum, his dick twitching with every soft sound that escaped your lips. And every sound did feel like music to him, which felt appropriate, considering your profession.
His lips trailed lower, moving from your breasts to your stomach, and finally to where you needed him most. He hooked his fingers around your waistband, pausing for just a moment to meet your gaze in silent question before tugging the fabric down your legs.
The space was tight, but Carmen was determined. He managed to settle between your thighs, his face mere inches from you.
And then he leaned in.
Your body jolted at the first touch of his tongue. A soft gasp escaped you as your hand found his hair, gripping tightly as he continued working you open with slow, deliberate movements.
Carmen groaned softly against you, the sound vibrating through your core and pulling another breathy moan from your lips. He was taking his time with it, dragging his tongue through your folds, slow and focused—like he was tasting something he’d been craving for a long time.
Your thighs twitched around his shoulders, and he only pressed in deeper. One arm curled beneath your leg to keep you open for him, while the other reached up, hand sliding along your ribs until his thumb brushed over your nipple again. Every point of contact lit you up.
“Fuck, Carmen—” you breathed, voice catching as your hips rocked against his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to glance up at you, lips shiny and eyes heavy.
“Yeah?” he said, voice hoarse. “That feel good?”
The teasing lilt in his voice was new—rough and low, coaxed out by the way you fell apart for him.
You nodded, too far gone for words. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he lowered his head again, tongue circling your clit before sucking softly, rhythmically. You gasped, a sharp, broken sound that made his hips twitch beneath the denim.
You were close, and he knew it. He could feel it in the way you pulsed against his mouth, in the way your thighs tried to close around his head.
He didn’t let up. If anything, he doubled down—sucking harder, tongue flicking in just the right way, fingers now slipping lower, pressing inside you without warning.
Your back arched off the seat, a cry spilling from your mouth as the pleasure hit all at once, wave after wave rolling through you. Carmen didn’t stop until you were twitching under him, your grip in his hair loosening, chest heaving with the force of it. Only then did he lift his head, dragging his mouth across your thigh with a breathless laugh.
“Jesus,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
You were far too breathless to offer a witty quip in response. So instead, you tugged him up by the chin and kissed him, messy and needy. You could taste yourself on his lips, the mixture of you and him almost intoxicating. Your tongue moved over his, hands clinging to his biceps as you tried to keep him close.
It was too much for Carmen to handle. Being this near to you, yet still not close enough, was driving him insane. And you could see it. You could feel it in the way his body trembled as he tried to hold himself up. You could feel it in the bulge straining against his jeans. With every movement of his tongue, he rocked his hips into you—his clothed dick dragging against your thigh, desperate for friction.
You shifted one of your hands from his cheek, palm trailing down his body until you reached his belt. You didn’t know how you’d managed to do it one-handed, but somehow, you got his belt off. You caressed him through his boxers, reveling in the soft moan that escaped his lips at the action.
“Someone’s excited to see me.”
Carmen couldn’t help but laugh at your words, his forehead resting against yours as you smiled. Your hand slipped beneath his boxers, soft fingers wrapping around his dick. Carmen bucked into your hand unconsciously.
“Yeah? Like that?”
He’d gone quiet all of a sudden—just nodding at your words.
“Come on, Carmy. Where’s the loudmouth I know and love?”
“Fuck you.”
You grinned.
“There he is.”
You shifted your grip, fingers moving over his head as you continued your languid strokes. He kissed you again—maybe in an attempt to shut you up. Or maybe to stop himself from groaning out loud. You nipped at his lips, tugging them between your teeth.
“Wanna hear you, Carmy,” you whispered against his lips, your voice low, sultry, commanding.
Carmen groaned — this deep, wrecked sound from somewhere in his chest — and you felt his whole body shudder in response. His hands gripped your hips like he was grounding himself, but his resolve was slipping. Fast.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, almost like a prayer, breath hot against your skin.
“Haven’t even got to the best part yet.”
Your words sent a shiver of desire rushing through him. Yes, he had wanted to keep going—that’s why he’d told you to move to the backseat. But to hear you acknowledge it, to hear those suggestive words slip from your lips, ruined any self-control he had left.
Without warning, he shifted, guiding your body further down the seat. His fingers hooked around the edge of your underwear, tugging them fully off this time and tossing them somewhere behind him. His hands spread over your thighs, pushing them open as he settled between them, his gaze trailing down your body like he was memorizing it.
“You still sure?” he asked, voice rasped and a little wrecked.
You nodded–breathless, aching. “Yeah. Fuck, Carmy—please.”
He lined himself up, pressing the thick head of his cock against you, teasing you with just the tip. He watched the way your body reacted — how your hips lifted toward him, how your breath hitched — and he swore under his breath.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured, and then he pushed in slow, deep, agonizingly, deliberately.
Your head fell back with a gasp, hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you inch by inch, filling you completely. The car felt even smaller now, the heat between you overwhelming.
Carmen stilled when he was fully inside, trying to catch his breath, to keep from coming right there.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your neck. “Fuck, you’re warm. Oh god.”
“Carmy,” you whined, biting your lip as you tried to adjust to his size.
He growled — actually growled — and pulled back before thrusting into you again, harder this time. You moaned, nails digging into his skin.
The rhythm started slow, deep, grinding — like he wanted to savor every second — but it didn’t take long before it grew messier, more desperate. You wrapped your legs around him to pull him closer, to let him hit deeper. He bit into your shoulder, hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that had you both panting.
“You feel so good,” he groaned. “Fuck—just—so good.”
Your lips brushed his ear as you whispered, “Don’t stop, Carmy.”
Carmen’s hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging in just enough to remind you he was there—anchoring you even as his movements became more urgent, more desperate. Each thrust hit deeper, sending sparks of pleasure bursting through every nerve ending.
Your breath hitched with every collision, a mix of gasps and moans tumbling from your lips, the confined space of the car amplifying every sound. The way he moved—rough yet careful—made you feel cherished and possessed all at once.
He kissed down your jaw, teeth grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as your bodies moved in perfect, heated sync.
You were going to come. You could feel the coil tightening with every thrust. And when Carmen started mumbling words of praise against your neck, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.
You met his gaze, eyes shimmering with need and something softer—trust, desire, something unspoken that hovered between you.
“Carmy,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “I want you to come with me.”
His pace faltered for just a moment, but then he nodded, lips brushing against yours in a promise.
The sun was long gone; the only light illuminating the car was a crappy one from the parking lot. You were sure anyone who passed by could tell what was happening inside. With how rough Carmen was moving, you’d be surprised if your beat-up car wasn’t rocking along with the rhythm. But you couldn’t care less. Let them see. Let them watch the show.
The tension coiled tighter, muscles burning, heart pounding. Your world narrowed down to the feel of him, the sound of your joined breaths, the heat that bound you both.
And then, with a shuddering groan, Carmen tipped over the edge, his body trembling as he spilled inside you, every inch of him alive with release.
You clung to him, riding out the waves of your own climax as the world outside faded away.
For a long moment, you just held each other—breathless, tangled, the world outside reduced to distant noise. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling of the car as you tried to catch your breath. You could feel the warmth that still radiated from Carmen's body beside you. Could feel the scratch of his jeans against your bare legs as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
Carmen rested his forehead against yours, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer. “You okay?”
You nodded, fingers tracing lazy patterns across his sweat-dampened skin. “Better than okay.”
A tired smile tugged at his lips. “Damn, you’re something else.”
You laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “So are you.”
Neither of you spoke for a while, just breathing in the closeness, the newness of what had shifted between you.He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that made your heart twist.
“I don’t want this to end.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the honesty.
“Stay over,” he said quietly, his voice almost a plea. “Sleep in my apartment tonight. Let me wake up to the sight of you in the morning.”
The smile that broke onto your face could have replaced the sun. You tugged him into a soft kiss.
“Okay… but you’re driving.”
His brows lifted in surprise. “Wait, what?”
“I can’t feel my legs,” you teased, nudging him gently.
Carmen laughed—a low, warm sound—as he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you. “Alright, alright. I got you.”
After you both got dressed and Carmen settled into the driver’s seat, you made your way to his apartment. You watched the city pass by as you drove, Carmen’s hand resting on your thigh—a soft reminder of what had happened. A silent promise of more to come.
